Blaine Anderson and Alcohol Do Not Mix
by Comfster
Summary: Blaine's far too drunk to leave Rachel's party on his own. Kurt offers his assistance.


_**Blaine Anderson and Alcohol Do Not Mix**_

**Pairing: **BLALCOHOL (Blaine/Alcohol). It's my new OTP. I guess this could also be considered pre-Klaine?

**Warnings: **Spoilers for upcoming episode 2x14 Blame it on the Alcohol, crack!fic.

**Disclaimer: **I am in no way affiliated with Fox. These characters aren't mine, I am obviously not doing this for moolah.

**Summary: **Blaine's far too drunk to leave Rachel's party on his own. Kurt offers his assistance.

**Notes: **I have no idea what kind of drunk Blaine is going to be, so I just had fun with this. I also don't know how fast alcohol sticks with him, so I just kinda guessed. Minor technicalities.

Four different songs are used in this. Yeah, I didn't write any of them, sadly!

Enjoy! =)

##

As soon as Blaine managed to make his way out of Rachel's house, he stumbled over his own feet and fell face-first right into a neatly trimmed bush. He couldn't stop laughing; his stomach twitched, making him feel like he was going to be sick, and his eyes watered.

"_What_ is so funny?" Kurt asked, smacking his forehead with his palm. He sobered up quite some time ago, but Blaine was still toasted. He didn't stop drinking at the party; whenever his glass was empty, he practically screamed at anyone who was listening for it to be filled back up with something that was fruity and hand a lot of bite, and now he couldn't even remember how to stand up.

"This feels funny!" Blaine exclaimed, rubbing his reddened face against the leaves of the bush. He tried to roll onto his side to get up, but he didn't manage going very far, and he couldn't get his feet to find the pavement. "Do you think Ray-Ray would mind if I slept here?" he asked, his voice completely slurred.

It was totally embarrassing that Blaine took to calling Rachel that when he was under the influence.

"You can't _sleep here_, Blaine! We're outside and it's the middle of February," Kurt said, grabbing Blaine by his shoulders and heaving him up out of the bush. It was a tough feat, but somehow Kurt managed. He eased Blaine to his feet, still keeping a firm grip on his jacket because Blaine still wasn't steady enough to stand on his own.

When Kurt asked Blaine to come to Rachel's party with him, he didn't think it'd end up like this. Figuring that he shouldn't get his hopes up, he didn't come with any expectations for the night in the romance department, but when Rachel asked if anyone wanted to play Spin the Bottle, Kurt felt a tiny glimmer of optimism that maybe when it was his turn to spin the bottle, it'd land on Blaine, or vice versa. But instead, when Blaine spun the empty wine cooler bottle, it pointed right to Rachel.

A part of him, perhaps a foolish part, thought that despite all the alcohol Blaine consumed, he'd try and weasel his way out of kissing Rachel, because Kurt was _right there_, sitting next to him, and Blaine _knew_ about his feelings. But when Rachel grasped the collar of Blaine's shirt, he didn't pull away. He kissed her back, and when they broke apart, the look on his face made Kurt's stomach turn.

But maybe Kurt was just thinking too far into things. Blaine was pretty drunk out of his mind, he wondered if Blaine would even remember this night come morning. Maybe the kiss meant nothing. Maybe they could still be together _sometime _in the future.

He couldn't fantasize about getting with Blaine now, though, not when Blaine needed him just to be able to _move_. He couldn't just leave Blaine here; Rachel said that none of them could stay since she'd probably already be grounded because the living room reeked of alcohol, and a whole bunch of wasted teenagers sleeping on her bedroom floor would just make things a million times worse.

"The stars are briiight toniiight!" Blaine said, looking up at the night sky, his neck craned back so far that it looked like he was going to fall over again. He brought his hand up and pointed towards the sky. "Isn't it pretty, Kurt? Maybe there'll be a shooting star? Do you think there will be, Kurt? Maybe we should wish on it. I wanna make a wish on a shooting star, Kurt."

Kurt turned away from Blaine; the scent of alcohol on his breath was pungent. He tossed Blaine's arm around his shoulders and hitched his arm around Blaine's waist. "Will you pay attention already?" he huffed, blowing his bangs out of his eyes. "You need to help me. I can't carry you to my car, you're too heavy."

"Are you calling me fat?" Blaine asked, sounding aghast, flicking Kurt's ear with his finger.

This could not be happening; Kurt wished he was dreaming.

"What? No," he said, taking a step down from Rachel's porch. "I just need you to _stop _looking at the damn sky and _help me_."

"But it is so pretty, the sky is so clear," Blaine mused, but he too finally took a step down, joining Kurt. He swayed dangerously—had Kurt not been there to support him, he probably would have really hurt himself—but managed to stay on his feet.

Now they only had to make it to Kurt's car, which was parked in the street, wedged between Puck's truck and Santana's convertible.

"Ready?" Kurt asked.

Blaine hiccupped, then sort of nodded, and that was good enough for Kurt.

Kurt took the first step, waited for Blaine to join him, and then took another. The process was slow, but after a good ten minutes, they were finally standing in front of Kurt's car. He unlocked the doors, opened the passenger's side, and all but threw Blaine inside so he wouldn't fall over or wander off.

"Toasty warm!" Blaine said, snuggling into the seat. Kurt promptly ignored him. He grabbed the seatbelt, reached over Blaine's body, and buckled him in. "Click it or ticket!"

Kurt sighed, rolled his eyes, and slammed the door shut. He had considered just bringing Blaine to his house until he sobered up enough, but now he wasn't so sure. It was in the middle of the night, and he didn't want to be grounded, either. Not that it really mattered much, since everything he did revolved Dalton and studying these days. No, it'd just be best if it took Blaine to his own house, but he couldn't just dump him off while he was stone cold drunk.

How could he get Blaine to sober up? What would be the fastest way?

Blaine hadn't eaten anything before the party, and he only drank while he was there. Kurt didn't know much about alcohol, but he supposed that drinking on an empty stomach probably didn't do Blaine any favors.

It was worth a shot. Kurt figured that anything he gave Blaine, as long as it wasn't alcohol, would only improve the situation.

Kurt climbed into his car beside Blaine and put his keys in the ignition.

Blaine was clawing at the window, trying to figure out how to roll it down, but wasn't able to locate the button. "Fly me to the moon, and let me sing among the stars," he started to sing slowly, completely off-tune, his words blending together. He stared out of the window for a moment or two, and then turned his head to look at Kurt so quickly that his neck cracked. "What do you think it would be like to own a rocket ship?"

"What?" Kurt asked.

"A rocket ship! I bet that would be sooo cool, don't you think? We could actually _fly to the moon_!" Blaine told him, bouncing up and down a bit in his seat. "And I think it's gonna be a long, long time till touch down brings me round again to find I'm not the man they think I am at home, oh no no no! I'M A ROCKET MAN! ROOOCKET MAN! Burning out his fuse up here alone."

Kurt turned on the radio in hopes to drown out Blaine's atrocious, drunken singing, but quickly realized that was an awful idea.

"OH MY GOOOD, I LOOOVE THIS SONG," Blaine exclaimed, turning up the volume as he started to dance in his seat. "When you're feeling sad and low, we will take you where you gotta go! Smiling, dancing, everything is free! All you need is positivity!" His arms were flailing around, his head bobbing to the beat, and he was starting to make the car shake. "Colors of the world, spice up your life! People of—oops—every boy an every girl, spice up your life! People of the world, spice up your life, AHH!"

He could not get to the nearest drive-thru restaurant faster.

Luckily, he managed to pull into a McDonald's just as Spice Up Your Life finished. Kurt stabbed the volume knob with his index finger, turning off the radio, and rolled down his window.

"Hey, how did you do that?" Blaine asked.

Kurt ignored his question. "What do you want?"

"A million dollars!" Blaine said, chuckling to himself.

Kurt glared at him. "I mean food-wise," he said, nudging his head towards the display menu.

Blaine leaned over so that he was practically lying sideways on Kurt's lap, gripped the edge of the door, and looked right at the speaker box. "HELLO IN THERE!"

"Just tell her what you want," he sighed. Kurt made a mental note never to be the designated driver for Blaine again; not when he was this obnoxious while drunk.

"I want my baby back, baby back, baby back. Chiiiiiiili's baby back ribs, Chili's baby back ribs! Barbeque sauce!"

"This isn't Chili's, Blaine!"

Blaine looked at Kurt and leaned close to him, shutting his eyes and puckering his lips. "Give us a kiss."

Kurt placed a hand against Blaine's cheek and pushed him away. "No way, not while you're drunk. What do you want to eat? A cheeseburger, chicken nuggets?"

"I'd like a happy meal please," Blaine said to the speaker box, eyeing the display of gender-appropriate toys that came in the happy meals. The boys' one was stupid; action figures and stuff like that that never interested Blaine, but the girls' one had pink and purple unicorns, and he was all about that. "But make it the girls' one, I like the toy that comes with it more."

"And some orange juice, please," Kurt added. "The biggest bottle you have."

When he pulled around to the window, Kurt pushed Blaine off his lap and reached for his wallet. "Oooh! You're buying me dinner?" Blaine asked, his voice high-pitched and cracking a bit, but at least his words were slightly more coherent than they were before. "Is this a date?"

Kurt rolled his eyes slowly and handed the worker the money. Blaine was no longer speaking at the top of his lungs, which was probably a good sign, but he still was saying things he probably wouldn't have he not been drunk. Kurt supposed that was a tiny improvement.

The worker passed over to Kurt and gave him a sad little smile. Kurt nodded his thanks, pulled over, and dropped the bag in Blaine's lap. "Eat," he instructed as he reached behind his seat for a bottle of water—he always had one handy just in case he got thirsty. He placed both of them in the built-in cup holders and unscrewed the tops. "And drink. The orange juice first, and then the water."

Blaine opened up his happy meal box and shoved a couple of French fries into his mouth as he opened up his toy package. His little unicorn toy had a pink body, a yellow mane and tail, and bright turquoise eyes. "She looks like a Felicia to you, doesn't she?" Blaine asked, holding the toy up to Kurt's eyes. "I think that's what I'm going to name her."

"Absolutely," Kurt said absentmindedly.

He couldn't stop thinking about that kiss—the one between Blaine and Rachel instead of Blaine and him. Yeah, it might have been during a drunken game, but it still hurt to see his friend and the guy he was crushing _hard_ for make out right in front of his face. The possibility of a real relationship with Blaine seemed further away than ever now.

Blaine must have been hungry, he had almost eaten all of his food and his orange juice was already half-gone. The overwhelming color in his cheeks started to drain a bit, and his eyes seemed a bit more focused, less glazed over and glossy.

"How are you feeling?" Kurt asked in a soft voice.

"Kinda crappy," Blaine said through a mouthful of cheeseburger.

"Guess it's working," Kurt mused, a small grin playing at his lips.

It only took another thirty or so minutes when they were parked in front of Blaine's house that Blaine started to complain that his head and stomach ached.

"Did I hit my head?" Blaine asked, rubbing his temples.

"Well, you did fall when you were singing a duet with Rachel," Kurt told him, nodding.

Blaine sat there completely silent for a moment until everything that happened that night slowly came back to him. "Oooh, now I remember. We sang Don't You Want Me!" he said, wide smile playing at his lips.

Kurt looked down at his hands in his lap. "And you guys kissed."

"Well, yeah," Blaine said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. "We were playing Spin the Bottle." He glanced over at Kurt from the corner of his eye and frowned. "Did I do something wrong?"

Kurt sighed heavily. "It's just that Rachel's my friend…and everything I told you…I just didn't think you'd _do_ that."

Blaine's brows furrowed together, his face expressionless. "Kurt, that kiss didn't mean anything," he said through an airy chuckle. "It was Spin the Bottle; kissing's the whole point of the game."

"Well, you seemed really into it," Kurt said flatly, his eyes starting to sting.

Blaine leaned a little closer to Kurt and placed his hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Kurt, it didn't mean anything," he repeated, smiling softly. "I was drunk and so was Rachel, and I am sure she is regretting it just as much as I am right now. If I would have known…" his voice trailed off and he hesitantly reached for Kurt's hand and took it in his, marveling for a moment at how soft and warm Kurt's hand was, how it fit so well in his. "If I would have known it was going to hurt you, I wouldn't have done it."

Kurt nodded, but didn't look up at Blaine. He knew he was overreacting, but no matter how much alcohol was involved, or whatever game, it still hurt to see them make out. But Blaine was right—it was just a game, it didn't mean anything, and Kurt just needed to let it go.

"You believe me, don't you?" Blaine asked.

Slowly, Kurt drew his eyes up and smiled gently. "Yeah, I do," he said at long last. He knew that Blaine wasn't a jerk and that he wouldn't purposefully hurt him; he was just a regular teenager who made mistakes and sometimes did things he regretted.

"Good," Blaine said happily, scooting over a bit more, his lips lingering just over Kurt's but instead of kissing him, he was kissing Kurt's palm. "What the—?"

"You just ate McDonalds and your breath still reeks of alcohol," Kurt told him, smirking mischievously. "You're not getting any kisses from me tonight."


End file.
